The morning was cold—first day of college cold.
Sanji dragged himself down the stairs toward the kitchen, eyes half-open, looking exactly like someone who spent the whole night awake. His dad was already cooking breakfast, the smell filling the room.
"Morning," Sanji muttered as he dropped into a chair at the dining table.
His dad took one look at Sanji's face and sighed.
"You know, you're destroying your system staying up like that."
Sanji glared at him with his zombified expression.
"Old man, I told you I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"I'm not worried about you," his dad said, flipping an egg. "It'd be stupid to worry about someone who can take care of himself. I just don't want a corpse lying in my kitchen."
Sanji groaned, grabbed the cup of coffee on the table, and took a long sip.
He snatched a piece of toast and headed back upstairs to get ready for school.
Sanji closed his bedroom door behind him and tossed the toast onto his desk. His room was a mess—open notebooks scattered everywhere, half-finished assignments, and a pile of clothes he promised himself he would fold "tomorrow"… four days ago.
He grabbed his uniform shirt from the back of his chair and tried to smooth out the wrinkles with his hands.
"Great," he muttered. "First day of college and I already look like I fought a washing machine."
He stopped in front of the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair sticking up in random directions. He sighed and ran his fingers through it until it looked slightly less chaotic.
While he buttoned his shirt, his mind drifted—not to his classes, not to the schedule he barely reviewed, but to the one rumor he'd heard about his department:
A new transfer student from another city. A girl everyone kept talking about.
He shook his head.
"Focus, Sanji. You're not here for drama. You're here to survive."
He tossed his bag over his shoulder, grabbed the last bite of toast, and headed out of his room. As he walked downstairs, his dad called from the kitchen:
"Don't fall asleep in class!"
"No promises!" Sanji yelled back.
He stepped outside, locking the door behind him. The morning air was cold but refreshing, waking him up more than the coffee did. Students were already walking down the street in groups, chatting and laughing.
Sanji put his hands in his pockets and started walking toward the college gates.
Sanji walked through the college gates, still half-asleep, still regretting the all-nighter. Students rushed past him, but he only noticed one thing:
A girl standing near the notice board, adjusting her hair as the wind blew it across her face.
Sanji froze mid-step.
His brain: Wake up, idiot. Wake up. WAKE UP.
He straightened his shirt, fixed his hair with the speed of someone suddenly resurrected, and—despite being sleep-deprived two minutes ago—walked toward her like he'd had eight hours of sleep and a confidence upgrade.
He cleared his throat softly.
"Um… excuse me, miss…" His voice suddenly became smooth, almost too smooth.
The girl looked up, surprised.
Sanji instantly felt his heart launch out of his chest.
Beautiful.
No—gorgeous. Stunning. Mirac—
"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing the way he froze again.
Sanji snapped out of it.
"A-Ah, yes! Absolutely! I am—perfectly fine!"
He bowed slightly, hand on his chest.
"My name is Sanji. First year. And possibly, your humble servant."
Her eyebrow went up. "Your what?"
He blinked. "Uh—I mean—helper! Sorry. Long night."
She laughed a little, and Sanji looked like he'd just been blessed by the heavens.
She pointed at the board. "Do you know where Lecture Hall B3 is?"
Sanji's eyes sparkled.
"Yes! Of course! Allow me to escort you, my lady."
She squinted. "Do you even know where it is?"
"…No," he admitted immediately.
She burst into laughter again, and Sanji stood there helplessly… but smiling like an idiot.
Classic him.
Sanji slipped into Lecture Hall B3, trying his best not to look like someone who'd only slept forty minutes. Students were settling down, chatting, and flipping through their notes.
Then he saw her — Nami — sitting by the window again.
Sanji's entire brain shut down for two full seconds.
She's even prettier in daylight—
A student bumped into him from behind.
"Bro, move."
Sanji jolted forward. "S-Sorry."
He hurried to a seat two desks from Nami. Close enough to talk… far enough to not freak out. He placed his bag down gently—
CLANK.
Sanji flinched. The chair sounded like it was announcing his arrival to the entire planet.
Nami looked up, smiling slightly. "Still a rough morning?"
Sanji tried to sit calmly, but the chair squeaked like it was protesting life itself.
"I am perfectly fine," he said, voice too smooth and too loud for someone dying inside.
She laughed softly, and Sanji felt himself level up spiritually.
But then—
The room fell silent.
A tall man in a black coat walked in, cold aura filling the space like winter air. He set his books on the desk with surgical precision.
A faint tattoo peeked under his sleeve as he adjusted his papers.
I'm Trafalgar D. Water Law.
Your professor.
He scanned the room once, expression unreadable.
"Good morning," Law said, voice calm but sharp. "If you value your grades, sit. Down."
Everyone obeyed instantly.
Sanji straightened so fast his spine almost clicked.
Law's eyes moved across the seats…
…paused on Sanji's messy hair…
…and narrowed just slightly.
"You."
Sanji pointed at himself weakly. "M–Me, sir?"
"Yes. You." Law's tone didn't rise, but it hit harder than shouting.
"If your chair makes one more sound, you're moving to the front row where I can supervise your existence."
Nami covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Sanji wanted to sink through the floor.
"Y-Yes, Professor!" he said, saluting before he realized he was saluting.
Law blinked once. "…Don't do that."
Sanji slowly lowered his hand.
Law continued, walking to the board.
"This course will not be easy. If you slack off, you will fail. If you disrupt my class, you will fail faster. Understood?"
A chorus of nervous "Yes, sir!" filled the room.
Sanji whispered toward Nami, "I feel like he can sense my thoughts."
"He can," she whispered back. "Better not think anything illegal."
Sanji inhaled sharply, clamped his hands together, and stared straight ahead like he was meeting judgment day.
Meanwhile, Law began writing on the board, chalk moving with surgical precision.
Sanji glanced at Nami again, just briefly.
She smiled.
And for the first time, Sanji wasn't sure what was scarier:
Professor Law's death glare…
or how fast one smile from Nami could completely destroy his focus.